Commodus was not always bitter. In fact, he used to be one of the kindest souls that Rome ever knew. He loved deeply once, laughed as if there was no worry in all the world. His tongue was sweet and tender, not cold and harsh. This is the story of Commodus and Augusta, and their doomed love that would change him forever.

Chapter Two

Commodus walked quickly within the halls of the palace. It was suppertime, and his father, sister, and mother would be waiting. Young Commodus was always late to dinner, but this time he had arrived later at a time that was beyond acceptable. He shuddered to even think of how long his father would scold him. But Marcus Aurelius never scolded, never went above a whisper. Yet the usual graveness of his tone at Commodus' actions told him otherwise, that he was disappointed in him, that Commodus shamed him. He tried to please his father, he really did, but even with good intentions, he never succeeded.

I am a fool yet again. Why must you be a disgrace, Commodus? Why can't you be as father raised you, to be selfless?

Commodus held his head low as he dragged his feet towards the dining room. Ready to be shamed once more and feel worthless, as he often did in front of such a man as Rome's Caesar. Commodus found it hard to believe that they shared blood; he, a limp, aggressive character, the son of a graceful and strong ruler? The lineage did not seem sensible.

Commodus held his two bare feet together on the cool ceramic tiles. Clearing his throat, he said, "Father?"

Commodus dared not look upon the Caesar's face, which he knew was outlined with numerous wrinkles to show for his stress.

Calmly: "Where were you, Commodus?"

Commodus searched for the anger that was surely hidden underneath.

"Forgive me, Father, I have returned too late." Commodus reddened. In between chews, Lady Cornelia, his mother, sternly said, "Answer your father's question, Commodus."

"Hush, Cornelia, no need to snap at him." Marcus tried to cut her off with a flick of his hand, but his wife did not listen.

"He must learn to answer questions, Marcus."

The Caesar repeated, but as calmly as ever, "Where were you, Commodus?"

Commodus hesitated. "I…was…in the fields."

This was not a satisfying answer. "Doing what, Commodus? Have you finished your lessons as of yet?"

"Not quite, father." Commodus was losing confidence. His statement wavered in the dining room as his entire family watched him, each with a different air.

Silence. The last time Commodus took a visit to the fields, he had gotten in a lot of trouble. The last time he visited the fields…

Marcus Aurelius discovered his son's only weakness.

Marcus' tone rose. "What did I tell you about visiting the peasants?"

His mother interrupted once more. "You've been seeing that girl again, I know it!" Marcus responded by slamming his fist onto the table.

"Cornelia! I would like to handle this myself." Seeing that all of his supper was finished, he beckoned to Commodus. "I would like to speak to you for a moment." Commodus unwillingly followed; he had no other choice.

"You know why you upset your mother and me." Commodus did not want to answer. Yes, he knew the reasons very well, but it was no reason that Commodus agreed with.

"No, father, I do not." Said Commodus.

He sighed. "I told you last time that I do not advise you to meet other women. It does no good to your future."

"And what future do I have? Are you saying that you won't allow Rome to have a peasant's daughter as an Empress?" Commodus tried his best to control his temper.

"I know that feelings may develop between two different classes. And yes, Rome would be devastated to see a peasant girl rule over them. But more important than that, what of your arranged bride? She has been waiting her whole life to wed you. By reserving your feelings for another, you will not only break a marriage pact I made with her father at the time of your birth, you will be going against our ancient culture."

"You…what?" Commodus narrowed his eyes in disbelief. "At the time of my birth? I thought I would at least get a chance to choose my suitors when I came of age."

"You are mistaken, Commodus. You are eighteen in October, but I have arranged no suitors for you. Your bride was decided years ago. I would like you to stop seeing her…immediately. It will only make you grow more attached."

"But I love Augusta. I have no intention of leaving her, or hurting her, for that matter." Commodus went on resolutely.

"Ah, yes. I should have known. You have fallen too deeply. It is time to rescue you before it is too late."

"I choose to marry Augusta."

"I will hear no more of it," said Marcus. "I will let you say goodbye to her, and after that you are forbidden. I believe I am finished talking about this matter. Good night, Commodus."

Commodus, taking that as dismissal, turned sadly to leave.

"Your attitude does not change my mind," Commodus said rather starkly, and ran to his room.

"Commodus, Commodus, Commodus, when will you ever learn," his sister commented as he walked past. "Princes aren't supposed to fall in love with peasants." Commodus hung his head low.

"I'm sorry I disappointed you, sister. I was weak. I will never see her again."

"Now, Commodus, don't hide your feelings. You love her, don't you?" She gave her brother a hug.

"I do, sister. I knew you would understand." Commodus looked on with hope. "Do you support me on this?"

"I do and I do not. I wish for my brother to be happy, but being a prince does not always bring happiness, does it? Sometimes, you are obliged to sacrifice. Say goodbye to her, Commodus. It will only bring problematic issues in the future with your wife."

Commodus couldn't bear it.

Impatiently: "None of you understand! All you care for is wealth- you have never once looked into one's mind. But I am not superficial like the rest of you. I want to be tolerant and wholesome and not judge a person on her status! You asked me what I saw in Augusta, father. I see myself spending the rest of my life with her! I choose to spend my life with her!" He shouted, making sure the entire household heard him. His burst of anger left his sister speechless.

The prince closed his bedroom door with a bang. He talked half to himself. "Oh, Augusta. Why won't they accept you?" He took off the small medallion around his neck, a gift from Augusta. He cradled the jewelry as if it were her, kissing it continuously pretending it was his lover's cheeks. He whined in fear of never seeing her again, and that fear is what accompanied him in sleep.